Michael Penguyne | Page 8

example," answered Michael, unstepping the mast, which he let fall on his shoulder preparatory to carrying it up to the shed.
"I was going to take that up," said Eban; "it is too heavy for you by half."
"It is my duty, thank you," said Michael, somewhat coldly, stepping on shore with his burden.
Slight as he looked, he carried the heavy spar up the pathway and deposited it against the side of the house. He was returning for the remainder of the boat's gear, when he met Eban with it on his shoulders.
"Thank you," he said; "but I don't want to give you my work to do."
"It's no labour to me," answered Eban. "Just do you go and turn in, and I will moor the boat and make a new set of `tholes' for you."
Again Michael begged that his friend would not trouble himself, adding--
"If you have brought the shells for Nelly and will leave them with me, I will give them to her when she comes home."
Nothing he could say, however, would induce Eban to go away. The latter had made up his mind to remain till Nelly's return.
Still Michael was not to be turned from his purpose of doing his own work, though he could not prevent Eban from assisting him; and not till the boat was moored, and her gear deposited in the shed, would he consent to enter the cottage and seek the rest he required.
Meantime Eban, returning to his punt, shaped out a set of new tholes as he proposed, and then set off up the hill, hoping to meet Nelly and her grandmother.
He must have found them, for after some time he again came down the hill in their company, talking gaily, now to one, now to the other. He was evidently a favourite with the old woman.
Nelly thanked him with a sweet smile for the shells, which he had collected in some of the sandy little bays along the coast, which neither she nor Michael had ever been able to visit.
She was about to invite him into, the cottage, when Michael appeared at the door, saying, with a sad face--
"O granny! I am so thankful you are come; father seems very bad, and groans terribly. I never before saw him in such a way, and have not known what to do."
Nelly on this darted in, and was soon by Paul's bedside, followed by her grandmother.
Eban lingered about outside waiting. Michael at length came out to him again.
"There is no use waiting," he said; and Eban, reluctantly going down to his boat, pulled away up the harbour.
CHAPTER THREE.
Paul continued to suffer much during the evening; still he would not have the doctor sent for. "I shall get better maybe soon, if it's God's will, though such pains are new to me," he said, groaning as he spoke.
The storm which had been threatening now burst with unusual strength. Michael, with the assistance of Nelly and her grandmother, got in the nets in time.
All hope of doing anything on the water for that night, at all events, must be abandoned; the weather was even too bad to allow Michael to fish in the harbour.
Little Nelly's young heart was deeply grieved as she heard her father groan with pain--he who had never had a day's illness that she could recollect. Nothing the dame could think of relieved him.
The howling of the wind, the roaring of the waves as they dashed against the rock-bound coast, the pattering of the rain, and ever and anon the loud claps of thunder which echoed among the cliffs, made Nelly's heart sink within her. Often it seemed as if the very roof of the cottage would be blown off. Still she was thankful that her father and Michael were inside instead of buffeting the foaming waves out at sea.
If careful tending could have done Paul good he would soon have got well. The old dame seemed to require no sleep, and she would scarcely let either of her grandchildren take her place even for a few minutes. Though she generally went marketing, rather than leave her charge she sent Michael and Nelly to buy bread and other necessaries at the nearest village, which was, however, at some distance.
The rain had ceased, but the wind blew strong over the wild moor.
"I am afraid father is going to be very ill," observed Michael. "He seemed to think something was going to happen to him when he told me what I did not know before about myself. Have you heard anything about it, Nelly?"
"What is it?" asked Nelly; "till you tell me I cannot say."
"You've always thought that I was your brother, Nelly, haven't you?"
"As to that, I have always loved you as a brother, and whether one or no, that should not make you unhappy. Has